Broken thoughts
by A Little Here and There
Summary: Small fic about what happens after Dean's death in the third season, warning though, character death. Rated for saftey.


A very small scene about what happens after Dean dies in the third season.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters.

**Warnings: **Character death, if you don't like it please don't read it.

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Its that feeling of pain and desperation, that sheer and traumatic feeling of panic that courses through your body. It stampedes through your body, coursing through every vein and setting your nerves on fire.

There's not enough time.

Not enough time to tell them that they are the reason you live. The reason you lumber up the narrow stairways of your day to day life. Not enough time to tell your secrets. The secrets held too close to your heart because you were too afraid of the pain in revealing them, the humiliation of letting a loved one know your weaknesses.

And when you finally find yourself in those last seconds of breath, watching your loved one gasp, another feeling seizes you. Anticipation. What's next? Is there a next? Or is this all? Have I lived my life? What of all those unsaid moments?

And you realize that the regrets you worked so hard to forget and to not have in the last moments still linger in the shadows. Waiting. Waiting for you to trip and stumble.

But as Sam slowly fell to his knees besides the torn body of his brother, he can only feel pain. All he can think about is that he's failed his brother. Again. Even after the countless times Dean has saved him.

Sam had promised, _promised, _to get Dean out of his deal. And he had failed, miscalculated the time they had left, and now he was gone.

Sam softly grabs at Dean's body, ignoring the feeling of slick warm blood on his fingers and the quiet sound of scuffling shoes as Sam repositions himself so that Dean is held in his lap.

Its a bizarre feeling holding his brother in his lap, and suddenly he feels like an older brother. Sam looks down at Dean's face. His green eyes, which at one time held so many emotions, held nothing. They were glazed and blank, horribly and terrifyingly vacant.

There is no screaming, no cursing, and no angry outburst of tears. It is quiet as Sam gently wipes the blood from Dean's face.

Sam rocks slowly back and forth. Cradling the man who used to do the same to him when he was a boy. "Oh God, Dean."

Sam remembers a time when he was ten and Dean fourteen. Dad, like usual had been off on another hunt, 'saving the world' and had left the two of them in a moldy hotel room. At first the rain had been quiet, almost soothing. Its quiet rhythm steady.

Dean had looked out the window and had commented, "Suppose there's a storm comen in. All thunder and lightning." He had said it without a care in the world, just kept flipping through the channels on the television. But Sam could feel the black pit in his stomach grow. He _really _didn't like the storms. The thunder could be bearable at times but he hated lightning. There was something about the way it sneaked up on you and struck, like an angry viper who didn't have a source of its fury. It crackled and hissed and Sam had been sure that one of these times it snapped it would surely fry him.

They went off to bed, Dean had taken dad's bed with the grumbling retort, 'I'll have bruises in the morning if I sleep in the same bed, the way you kick in your sleep.'

Sam hadn't said anything but hurriedly found sanctuary under the covers of the motel sheets, as the thunder began to roar. Sam heard Dean yawn and roll over in his bed. Then it seemed all hell broke loose. Lightening split the sky, terrifying Sam completely, the thunder pounded against the small room they were in a split second afterward.

Dean continued to snore. Sam could feel his heart jump in his throat as another round of thunder and lightening ensued. The wind howled and the only thing Sam could think about was the monsters underneath the bed and in the closet. He had held onto the belief they were fake so hard that when it was yanked away it seemed his entire world had cracked.

Then, the sky exploded and even Dean jerked awake, sitting up right in the bed. Sam heard him chuckle briefly, almost nervous. Sam rolled over so that he was looking back at Dean. Sam could imagine what Dean saw, huge round eyes completely filled with terror.

"Sam, why don't you come over here." Dean had patted the spot next to him.

Sam shook his head. "N-no, it's okay...I-I'm good. Kind of loud huh?" He had stammered trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Okay. But the offer stands." Dean had said with a knowing look at his brother before rolling over in bed.

Sam had looked at his brothers back for a very long time. The thunder and lightening had started to dwindle and Sam finally started to drift into sleep. But then like a firecracker another huge round came and it took everything Sam had not to sprint to his brothers side. Instead, Sam slowly crept over and jumped in besides Dean, resting his back against him.

When another crack was heard followed by its partner in crime, Sam couldn't help but jump suddenly. Dean slowly sat up in bed and grabbed Sam's shoulders. He rested his head against the head board as he told Sam over and over. "It's okay Sammy, nothen' going to happen to you while I'm here okay? Nothing's ever going to happen."

In the morning Dean had made pancakes, but hadn't even mentioned the night. It was almost as if he had forgot. Sam never would though.

So holding his brother's beaten and torn body, Sam sobbed.

"Dean, I'm so sorry." The words escape his lips like a whisper, chocking for air, tears are steadily streaming down his face. The pendant wrapped around Dean's neck is twisted on its leather cord and Sam reaches up to fix it. Its still warm to the touch. "I'm sorry, so sorry." Sam lays a chaste kiss on his big brothers forehead and falls into those waiting shadows. "It wasn't supposed to be this way."

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**Cowgrl**

**So, not a very happy one, heh...but it was one of those, 'I have to write!' moments. lol, please review. =D **


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